30 Moments
by Tasogare-Taichou
Summary: An IchiRukithemed 30fics challenge.
1. Disclaimer

Consider this a disclaimer

Title: 30 Moments of Passion

Fandom: Bleach

Characters: Ichigo x Rukia

Rating:: Anything from R, all the way up, folks.

Summary: This is a collection of 30 fics written as a challenge for the Livejournal community 30lemons. I am well aware that not everyone may like lemon works, hence the reason why I'm putting this warning here before I post anything risque. They may very well remove this due to content, but if they don't, I would very much like to actually HAVE all of my fics in one place other then my own livejournal. That being the case, I'm expecting all of you readers to act like adults. You know if you're too young to read this, and I absolve myself of the responsibility of babysitting you and protecting you from the big bad intarwebs.


	2. Afterhours

Pairing/Fandom: Kurosaki Ichigo/Kuchiki Rukia Bleach  
Theme: #24: Doctor's In or "My what a big thermometor you have there."  
Title: After-hours  
Author/Artist: **tasogaretaichou**  
Rating: NC-17  
Disclaimer: Bleach / Mine, otherwise I wouldn't have to write this for this sort of thing to exist. XD.

Tapping her foot in an irritated manner, Rukia checked the watch fastened to her left wrist, a scowl breaking across her features. Idiot. The hell was he doing still here, his shift was supposed to have ended 2 hours ago. Heaving a sigh, she watched as the thin line of the second hand ticked along the numbers, feeling the irritation grow with each passing second that ticked by. It only took another 38 or so before she was pushing palm against the swinging door, skirt swishing noisily with the rush of air from the hallway as she stalked towards what she knew was likely an empty office.

_Idiot, can't he actually __**come home**__ on time for once?_

Ducking her head inside to confirm that the office was indeed empty -- and it was, she noted with a snarl and a roll of violet eyes -- she shook her head and brushed a stray lock of black hair from her face. At least that made it easy to find him, given that there were only so many places where a tall, orange-haired man in a lab coat _could_ hide. Pushing aside another door, she let the scowl rise to her features as eyes landed on the object -- or person, rather -- of her search with a scathing disapproval.

"You're _late_. AGAIN."

Ichigo barely acknowledged her from where he stood, leaning against the table in the center of the room, nose buried in what she could only assume was some sort of medical text. Really, he read far more than she'd ever given him credit for. But then, that was what made him a good doctor, Rukia supposed. And honestly, she was proud of him for it. When he wasn't staying here late and leaving her home to starve, that is. Hands found their way to hips as the furrow in her brow deepened substantially at his continued ignoring of her.

"I _said_ you're late again. And I'm hungry."

When he dismissed her again with a simple wave of his hand and an "I know, I know.", it was time to start debating whether it would be more beneficial to shove the book down his throat or strangle him with his own tie. Either option seemed to have a good deal of merit at the moment, and the mental picture she was getting trying to decide was definitely doing something for her mood. At least a bit. Though just how long that soothing fantasy would last was going to be directly dependent on how long the moron with the tangerine-hued head stood there and pretended she didn't exist.

"ICHIGO!"

With a roll of his eyes, he lowered the book and rounded on her, irritation plain on his face. "RUKIA. I KNOW you're there, and I KNOW I'm late, so just shut up and deal with it and I'll be done in a minute."

Turning back to his book, he idly adjusted the little silver-rimmed glasses -- he hated the things, but that habit of pouring over medical texts late at night had taken it's toll. Thankfully he only needed them for reading -- and flipped the page, absorbed in some procedural abnormality or some other such thing. Rukia really didn't care. No, what she DID care about was that she was hungry. She was hungry and he wasn't doing a damn thing about it.

Fuming, she concentrated all her anger on an invisible point in the center of his forehead. Maybe if she thought about it hard enough, she could burn a hole there and see if there actually _was_ some sort of brain there. Probably not, or at least if there was one, it was full of nothing but medical terminology and other random crap. Nothing useful about _feeding your spouse_, or anything else that might prove to lengthen his current expected lifespan.

With another stifled growl and glare at the clock -- she was sure he was deliberately taking a long time with this -- she took the time to admire him. He'd grown up nicely over the last few years. 27 now, he'd been a successful doctor for about 2 or 3 years now and she had to admit he was good at it, as good as he'd been all those years ago as a shinigami. He was taller, a bit broader through the shoulders, and a tad more weathered than he'd once been, but otherwise he was still the same.

As for the weathering... well, years of studying those confusing texts would do that to you, she had to assume. She should know, it had been hard enough for _her_ when he'd had to spend a few years doing nearly nothing but studying. She'd tried to take over all of their shinigami duties again but it wasn't as though he was about to let her do that alone. Damned overprotective idiot that he was. It had been a pain in the ass but she'd stayed by him, first out of sheer loyalty, then love and the ring he'd put -- much to her astonishment -- on her left hand. She'd sat and watched and dealt with him -- she hadn't realized he could be even MORE of a pain than he already was, but he'd surprised her -- and what had she gotten out of it? The moron had gotten her _pregnant_. Only 7 weeks, but still.

Tapping her foot for another moment or so, she crossed arms over her chest with a scowl. "I'm really leaving this time..."

Brown eyes glanced up over the edge of the book, accompanied by a soft scoffing chuckle as he closed it and sauntered over to loom behind her. "No you won't."

"Yes I will, you're pissing me off." He'd better not try anything, she was most certainly _not_ in the mood for his bullshit today. She was hungry and tired and irritated.

Ichigo's smirk widened as he took another step forward, resting hands on her hips and dropping his head to press soft kisses down the side of her neck, sucking softly at the smooth skin there and relishing the way she trembled just slightly. She could never seem to help doing that, and it only served to fuel his ego more. "You're not mad. Not really."

Her being mad was a debatable thing. In all honesty, she probably _was_ mad, but that was beside the point at the moment, given that he had other things on his mind. Things that all involved one angry spouse and the fact that certain articles of clothing were growing more irritating the longer lips roamed over her throat. Fingers sliding further around her waist, one hand slid in a slow path down her hip and along her thigh to dart under the hem of her dress. That was better.

"Or at least you won't be in a minute..." It was pretty hard to hide the smirk as fingers climbed higher, feeling skin prickle beneath his caress as his hand moved higher, taking the skirt with it.

Swallowing back an involuntary gasp as his lips traced fire along her throat -- goddammit why did he always have to have that effect on her, it wasn't fair -- she meticulously fostered the scowl on her face, one hand wrapping around his arm and halting that hand's progression up her leg. Not mad? She'd show him "not mad"... "Oh yes I still am, and don't even THINK that you're getting any before you _feed me_."

It was probably a futile attempt, he could be damned persistent when he really wanted something, but she was easily as stubborn as he was and the only way he was likely to get what he wanted when _she_ wasn't in the mood -- at least... not in the mood as far as she was about to let HIM know -- was to use the simple tactic of brute strength. Which he wasn't prone to use on her, especially not since she'd dryly explained why her "stomach flu" wasn't clearing up. Really, a doctor and so clueless sometimes.

"No you're not..."

His lips worked their way down the side of her neck with a slow, leisurely pace, nipping and sucking as they found new points of interest, taking care to gauge her reactions. Damn him and his insistence on being so thorough, it was as much a blessing as it was a curse. Because while it meant that -- though she would bite off her own tongue before she knowingly fed his ego -- that she _always_ ended up quite satisfied, it also meant it was damned hard to ignore him when she was trying to.

Ignoring her arm as though it was hardly there, his hand continued it's upward motion, gliding across her thigh and curling around to the inside of her leg, gentle fingers tracing softly against skin. He hadn't missed the way her breathing caught, the way she swallowed momentarily before launching into another protest about how she was hungry and he'd better stop now before she got _really_ mad and resorted to kidou and then he'd have to explain why his exam room was wrecked.

"Stop trying to pretend you're mad... it's not working."

Her indignant retort was cut off in a sharp gasp and a faint moan as one finger slid over the front of her panties, pressing just hard enough to trace over her contours as teeth bit down on the juncture of neck and shoulders. Oh damn. He'd even gone so far as to use _that_, the cheating bastard. It was so unfair, knowing as he did how sensitive the side of her neck was. But that was hardly much of a thought in her mind as she bit back an involuntary moan, head dropping easily to the side to give him better access. Asshole. She'd yell at him later. But... not right now.

Ichigo bit back a wry chuckle as he felt her finally start to relax against him, tension abandoning her frame, leaving behind supple curves and soft skin. Sliding his free hand up, he went to work on the buttons on the front of her shirt, popping them open one at a time to tug the neck of her shirt sideways and reveal even more pale flesh to his eyes, lips following the trail his eyes traveled. Biting down again, a little softer this time, he trailed fingers down the side of her neck and across her collarbone, dragging nails so gently against skin to make gooseflesh pimple beneath his touch as fingertips glided softly over contours and the roughened pad of his thumb found it's way to her nipple, pressing itself over the erect bud and sliding in a gentle rolling motion as it stiffened even more.

It was completely unfair how he could remove all of her protesting when he got her like this -- damned hormones, it must have been their fault -- but she wasn't really concentrating too hard on that as his palm cupped itself over her breast with a gentle squeeze, thumb still toying with her nipple as his index finger pressed slightly harder, gentle and even strokes against the dampening fabric of her panties serving as yet another distraction from her being mad at him.

Maybe it was a little unfair, but then it wasn't as though he didn't know she could easily turn the tables and reduce him to a melted puddle on the floor if she'd really wanted to. Even when he got the best of her like this, he knew perfectly well that he was only dominant because she wanted him to be, because she had momentarily capitulated to her own whims and his desires and that when it came down to it, it would be _she_ in control. Supressing a chuckle as mouth continued it's downward motion to her shoulder, he slid fingers aside just enough to push under the edge of the thin material that seperated them from her and rubbed a fingertip over her clit, dipping down to slide it along her moist center before curling back up to circle that sensitive bud of nerves.

It earned him a moan from Rukia, and a shudder passing through her frame as he kissed his way to the point of her shoulder, thumb replacing finger with it's soft pressure against her as one finger pressed it's way over slick skin, parting folds to push into her with an even motion. His lips trailed back up the side of her neck, biting harder, sucking and kissing their way over skin he was relatively sure would be bruised later -- not that she minded, protests to the contrary -- as he added a second finger, scissoring them slightly and pumping them in and out at an even pace.

Her fingers gripped the edge of the table as he pushed fingers into her, biting back a hissing moan as he pushed them in, pulling back and curling digits to brush against that one spot he'd worked so diligently to find their first time. She'd have to thank him for that, later, when she wasn't otherwise occupied with supporting her weight against him and using the last little bit of control she had just to keep her legs from buckling. Maybe it was a fringe benefit of the fact that she was just so much _smaller_ than he was, but it didn't really matter as fingers pushed so deep into her, sending chills down her spine and moans spiraling up from her throat.

Swallowing hard, she bit back another whimper, murmering his name as her head lolled back against his shoulder. "I...Ichigo..."

That was what he'd been waiting for, and he leaned in to run his tongue along the shell of her ear before teeth closed gently over skin and he was chuckling with his breath wafting against her throat. He didn't have to say anything, she knew exactly what he was thinking. Pulling fingers from inside her, he ran his tongue along them, tasting her with a low groan before roughly spinning her around to face him. In a matter of moments, he'd lifted her up to sit on the exam table, yanking off the thin scrap of wet cotton that was proving to be the only barrier between them and shoved his own pants down his hips.

Molding mouth over hers with a harsh abandon, he slid hands down her back to grip her backside and pull her against him, lifting and angling her hips to thrust into her in one smooth stroke, reveling in the way she moaned into his mouth. Tearing lips from hers, he trailed them down her throat again, nipping and biting as fingers tightened on her hips and drew her to him, burying himself as deep as he could in her tight, wet heat with a moan.

Nails gripping his shoulders, it was hard to help the way her back arched and her breath caught as he entered her, as rough and intense as always, regardless of how careful he may have been at the start. It was always this way, as though Ichigo held on for as long as he could until he just couldn't stand it anymore and then there was the intensity, the driving, pulsing need to have her for his own. And she loved it, loved the way he moaned in her ear, the way he attacked her neck and shoulders with teeth and tongue and lips, the way he thrust into her harder and faster with every moan that broke from her throat, every wordless encouragement she gave him.

Arching her neck back as his lips trailed firey kisses up it, she wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him closer, pulling him further into herself with a low groan of his name, tightening her grip on his shoulders until she could feel nails pricking through the fabric of his shirt. Every thrust, harder and faster than the last, shook a cry from her throat, sensations coiling and overpowering as his mouth trailed down her shoulder to her chest, tongue licking over heated skin and swirling around a nipple as he pulled the stiff peak into his mouth, breath coming in pants as he drove into her harder, fingers gripping her hips hard enough to leave bruises.

Rukia rolled her hips against his, meeting his thrusts halfway, feeling the tension pooling, coiling low in her belly. Little yelping whimpers increasing in pitch, she could feel herself shudder as he bit down on her nipple, thrusts becoming more and more erratic as he drew closer to that end as well, determined to send her crashing over it before he did. It was almost like a game with them, to see who could hang on the longest, but not today. One hand left the cradle of her hips and slid up and over her stomach and then down between them, thumb and forefinger working little circles over her clit and she felt herself lose control, the spring snapping and exploding as she bit back a scream of his name, muscles tensing and clenching around him in a spasm. She could feel him follow her, feel the way his frame stiffened, the way he thrust into her as far as he could, muffling a groan of her name into her shoulder as he continued moving, riding out his own orgasm and sending tremors of sensation rumbling through her frame.

Shaking, she simply sagged against him, nails still dug into shoulders, breath coming in short pants against the sweat-damp skin of his shoulder. Ichigo wrapped arms around her torso, burying his face in her shoulder, one hand sliding up the back of her neck to tangle in black hair in a shaky caress. It was a long moment before either of them moved, before he pulled back to brush black hair from her face with a gentle smile that soon turned into the smirk she recognized so well.

"See? Told you you weren't mad at me."


	3. Boundaries

airing/Fandom: IchigoXRukia / Bleach  
Theme: #4 "Thrill of the forbidden"  
Title: Boundaries  
Author/Artist: **tasogaretaichou**  
Disclaimer: Bleach / mine

"WILL YOU JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP AND LISTEN FOR ONCE IN YOUR DAMNED LIFE!?"

"NO I WILL NOT SHUT UP, AND DON'T YOU DARE THINK YOU CAN TELL ME TO!"

It was really a typical fight, at least for them. The screaming, the yelling, the getting in each other's faces. Hell, even the punches and kicks -- at least on her end -- were what passed as normal between them. All over some relatively mundane thing, as simple as the fact that he'd -- yet again -- gone running off half-cocked and nearly gotten his orange-headed ass _killed_ while she had to play damage control and bail him out. _Again_. Nothing unusual there. There wasn't even anything that unusual in the haughty lift of Rukia's chin, the way her violet eyes spat fire at him that matched the answering blaze behind his scowl as he loomed over her, using his height to what advantage he could, earning him another lash of her sandaled foot against his already-bruised shins.

His own fault, trying to use that tactic on her. She'd expected it, just as she'd expected the muffled curse at the impact, and the string of insults he'd flung back at her. No, what she hadn't expected, nigh _couldn't_ have predicted, was how they had gone -- in the blink of an eye, at least that's how it seemed -- from screaming at each other, to their current position. Not that it was entirely unpleasent.

Rukia wasn't even sure who had initiated it, who had made the initial move that got them into this predicament, only that there had been a sudden and almost instantaneous shift from standing on her tiptoes to yell as much in his face as she could while he yelled back to the hard impact of her back against the brick wall behind her, his mouth on hers, hands tugging at the front of her shihakushou. Or, for that matter, why her tongue was doing as much exploring as his was, or how her hands had gotten so twined into his hair that she could nearly feel orange strands cutting into skin.

And conscious thought was quickly being lost as Ichigo's mouth shifted, slanting over hers to deepen the kiss, that same kind of breathless urgency never slaking and fading away. It was wrong, so very wrong, to be enjoying it so much, to be giving into something she'd only half-realized was there. Breaking so many rules and skating right through the danger zone, up against a wall with a _Vaizard_ -- how the hell had he really kept that from her for so long, the bastard -- with no clear boundaries being maintained. It was wrong, so wrong and against all the rules that she lived by, all the things that she, as a shinigami, stood for, but oh god if it was so wrong then why did it feel so _good_, so _right_?

She was thinking too much -- hell, thinking at all right now was too much -- as much as his brain tried to tell him otherwise, tried to tell him that they shouldn't be doing this again, that it should have been the one time and the one time only, a mistake and shouldn't be repeated. But that had been before he'd gotten a taste, before he'd know what she felt like, smelled like, how soft her skin was and the way her mouth tasted like vanilla and sunshine. And something about her had sparked a lit fuse, set fire to a wick that he'd known had been burning, known had been there in the back of his mind but he'd always kept it shaded, hidden. Knowing that she'd tell him no, tell him it was wrong, that they couldn't, that it wasn't allowed. That her world would reject it, and he should as well.

Or at least, that's what he might have been thinking, were he thinking at all, rather then focusing his attention on getting as much of that sunshiney-vanilla taste as he could, hands wound tightly around her waist and sliding up to caress curves he'd had to admit she did indeed possess -- just... small ones -- through the black fabric with a groan, his own body weight keeping her pinned to the wall. He couldn't _take_ it anymore, not since she'd ruined him for anyone else, given him such a tantalizing little morsel, enough to lure him in and then sent him spiraling straight to heaven only to take it away again, telling him it shouldn't have happened, that he should forget about it.

And just HOW was he supposed to do that? Tearing mouth from hers, he fastened lips against the angle of her jaw, nipping and biting along the ridge of her jawline to run his tongue along the shell of her ear, biting back a groan at the way she shuddered beneath him. There wasn't even time to smirk as he pulled her earlobe into his mouth, sucking on it, teeth nipping softly at skin. The hell, was she _surprised_ that he actually _knew what he was doing_ now? Did she somehow not realize that ever since that one afternoon, he hadn't been able to think of anything _else_?!

With a low growl of her name, he pushed harder, pinning her tighter to the wall, and bit down on the side of her neck, determined to leave his mark on her skin. Dammit, if she was going to ruin him for anyone else, make it so he couldn't even _sleep_ at night without visions of her flitting through his mind, then he was gonna make damned sure he wasn't the only one. Warm emotions and fuzzy sentiments could go to hell right now, he'd worry about those later. Right now... there were baser needs to be assauged.

It was probably her fault -- at least partially -- but that didn't mean she hadn't expected him to actually let it go, to move on and get on with things. That one time wasn't meant to happen, it just HAD, and it had been her fault to begin with, seeing as she'd been the one who'd crawled into his lap -- hardly even thinking about what she was doing, just that she _wanted it_ right then -- and claimed his mouth for her own. And things had just spiraled from there, seeing as she'd never expected him to actually respond, to actually return the affection that had escaped it's tightly-closed bottle.

Damned teenage hormones, she probably should have anticipated this, considering the way he'd looked at her when she'd told him just to forget it had ever happened. And he'd obviously done some research, given that his initial clumsy and downright confused demeanor had vanished completely. Arching her neck back involuntarily as his lips and teeth trailed fire along her skin, she couldn't help the soft little moan that escaped her throat as he bit down on her neck, or the way nails dug into his scalp. Eyelids dropped closed, reveling in the way any touch from him always sent chills down her spine. It was still wrong, but somehow she couldn't bring herself to stop it, to care that she was breaking the rules again, taking yet another step into dangerous territory.

Working one hand into the neckline of her kosode, he gave it a tug, yanking it off of one shoulder, lips and teeth following the cloth to explore more of her skin, other hand hooking around behind her backside to lift her up to where he could press her against the wall, hips grinding against hers automatically, responding to the simple need that he'd been holding in for weeks since then. Silding hand down from her shoulder to slip inside black and white fabric, he cupped a hand over her breast with a rough squeeze, thumb rubbing over stiffened nipple for a moment before mouth replaced hands and he sucked the erect peak into his mouth, tongue lapping at sensitive flesh.

Arching her back with a whine, she bit her lower lip hard to stifle the moan that spiraled up from within, shuddering under his ministrations for a moment until her hands slid to cup his face and pull his head back up to where she could attack his mouth with her own, throwing all hesitance to the wind as hands slid under the neck of his robes, shoving them off his shoulders so that she could nip her way down to his collarbones in mimicry of his mouth's earlier path.

Growling low in his throat again, Ichigo choked back a groan as her fingertips and then her lips trailed little patterns down his throat and across his shoulders, hands spasming slightly as he raked them down her torso, not even bothering with the rest of her clothes. They were in the way, but right now it was the bottom half that was the most bothersome. Hooking a finger in the ties on her hakama, he buried his face in her shoulder with a groan, lips finding and caressing any skin in their reach. A quick yank and the tie broke -- she'd kick his ass for that later, but he didn't care -- and heavy black fabric pooled on the ground as he went to town on his own irritating clothing.

She should have been mad, should have punched him for that -- how the hell was she supposed to fix those anyway? -- but that sentiment was lost as he pinned her even tighter to the wall, ravaging her neck and shoulders with his mouth, hungry and needful and everything she'd been craving ever since she'd turned her back on him and told him to just forget about it all. Forget about the chemistry that they both knew blazed wildly out of control between them, forget about the way he'd begged her not to stop that delicously slow rhythem, hands gripping her hips as she'd panted his name, riding him, rocking them both to paradise.

Feeling the sudden chill of air as fabric fell away, as his hands swept along her thights to her hips momentarily before vanishing -- she knew -- to his own hakama, nearly frantic with the need to get barriers out of the way and slake the desire, the need, the bottled up emotion that they'd unwittingly unleashed on themselves. Her ears registered the faint sound of his hakama hitting the concrete, and as his hands gripped her hips, lifting her up just long enough to bury himself to the hilt in one quick stroke, the only thought she had time for was that thankfully like this, no one could probably see them.

Low groan mixing with her name as he felt her wet heat envelope him, Ichigo bit down again on her shoulder, pulling her legs up and around to wrap around his waist, fingers dug into her hips hard enough he was certain she'd complain about the bruises the next morning. Bowing his head, forehead against her shoulder, he gritted his teeth, driving into her again and again, hard and rough, too overcome with need to be gentle, careful. Not that Rukia seemed to mind, not with the way she was moaning in his ear, crying out his name in soft little whimpers, her legs tightening around him to pull him even further into that slick, tight heat as she dug her nails into his shoulders.

She was like a drug, an intoxicating, maddening, exotic drug, and he was addicted as surely as he knew the sky was blue. He needed her, craved her, sat up at night staring at the ceiling, glaring hungrily at that closet door and fantasizing about simply dragging her out and having her right there in the middle of the floor. Biting down on her shoulder, he panted against her skin, moving faster, pumping into her as hard and as deep as he could, needing to hear more of her breathless moans and keening encouragements. It was the only time, really, that he'd ever heard her beg, and even then it wasn't really begging. She was still giving orders, but it didn't matter, all that mattered was the tightening in his belly, the building tension he could feel, the way she trembled and her nails cut crescents into his shoulders, the way her hips ground against his, sending them higher, farther along that path until he felt her stiffen, felt muscles and that intense, mind-searing heat tighten around him as she groaned out his name in his ear, following her over that edge with a growl and a moan, burying himself as far within her as he could, body spasming and jerking with the force of his release.

Shaking, gasping for breath, all she could do was cling to him, arms wound tightly around his neck, ankles locked at the small of his back as he panted against her shoulder, his weight the only thing holding them up, keeping them from sagging to the ground in a boneless heap of exhaustion. Things would go back to nornal soon. They'd get dressed and she'd put the mask back on, once again tell him they can't do this. That it's wrong, forbidden. That it is a path with a dead-end, that they can't keep walking. But just like he knows, she knew they can only fight this for so long. That eventually it would get to them, and they'd once again find themselves victims of their own desires. But for now, she could stop thinking about that. Stop thinking, and steal just a few moments to rest her head against his chest and sigh, the faintest ghost of a smile on her face, and pretend that the forbidden was in reach.


End file.
